


when your heart was safe to hold

by sundays



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat/Human Hybrids, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays/pseuds/sundays
Summary: Mark is a cat hybrid who has spent his life in cages. Eduardo intends to change that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** vague and brief mention of sexual abuse

There's a guy named Dustin who sits next to Eduardo in multivariable calculus and who is convinced, based on nothing more than their brief conversations while they wait for class to start, that Eduardo needs more friends.

"Or at least a pet or something," he adds one morning, as other students filter into the lecture hall. "Do you have a pet?"

"I don't have a pet," says Eduardo, taking out his notebook.

"You should get one," Dustin says earnestly. "A dog. Or a cat. Are you a cat person? You seem like a cat person." He pauses for a moment. "Or even a fish. There's a pet store on Concord; you should check it out, I'm telling you."

"Dustin," Eduardo tells him. "I'm fine."

Because he is. He isn't lonely.

He just broke up with his girlfriend of three years, but she was psychotic. He doesn't miss her. And he's busy. He's a senior at Harvard. He's president of the Harvard Investors Association. He's in the Phoenix Club. He's maintaining a 4.0 GPA.

He doesn't need friends.

He certainly doesn't need a pet.

***

But one Friday evening, as he's heading home from Econ, he finds himself taking a different route than usual, finds himself walking 25 minutes out of his way and ending up on Concord Avenue.

He walks another block, until he's standing under the neon sign of a pet shop.

And in the window display to the right of the entrance, sitting cross-legged in what looks like a bed for a large dog, holding a book in his lap, is— a person? 

No, Eduardo realizes after a moment. There's a collar on his neck, a pair of ears sticking up from his curly brown hair, and a tail curled gently around his knee.

A hybrid.

***

Hybrids are rare.

Eduardo can count on one hand the number of times he's seen one before in real life: twice he's encountered one out in the world, being walked on a leash by its owner, and once he attended a dinner party at his father's colleague's house, where two dog hybrids served as waiters.

Other than that, his experience with hybrids is limited to media portrayals.

There's a movie that came out a few years ago about a hybrid and a human who fall in love. Eduardo remembers that it won an Oscar, but he didn't watch it personally. It had sounded kind of unrealistic.

He's looked at hybrid porn on occasion, but it's never turned him on.

He's seen hybrids in the news from time to time, usually for committing a crime, and he's come across a few exposés about the mistreatment of hybrids: the unregulated neglect of hybrids by dealers, the lack of enforcement of laws meant to protect underage hybrids from sexual abuse, that sort of thing. But it always makes him sad to read about that stuff, so he tends to avoid it. There's nothing he can do to help, so why depress himself?

He wonders, vaguely, if the hybrid in this window display has been mistreated like that. He doesn't _look_ mistreated. He looks clean and fed and uninjured, and his t-shirt and shorts— donations, probably; Eduardo has heard of charities that help clothe and provide enrichment for hybrids in pet stores— are in decent shape. There's nothing in the display case but the dog bed, a litter box, and a water bottle, but the hybrid seems content enough. And he has that book, so he's being entertained, at least.

Eduardo takes a step closer.

Taped to the glass of the window is a piece of neon orange paper, with information printed on it in Comic Sans.

**Hybrid!**  
**Name:** Mark  
**Sex:** male  
**Age:** 20  
**Breed:** feline hybrid  
**Personality:** skilled, well-trained, clever, sassy

Sassy? Eduardo is touching the window by now, utterly transfixed. He taps at the glass, but the hybrid doesn't look up.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Eduardo knows that most— all?— hybrids are intellectually and developmentally inferior to humans in many ways, consistently scoring far below average on IQ tests and such, even if they're literate like this one.

He raps again on the glass, and this time the hybrid moves, angling his body away from Eduardo. He turns the page of his book and continues to read.

Eduardo sighs, ducks his head, and steps inside the pet shop.

***

He wanders around aimlessly, checking out the mice and the hamsters and the rabbits, but none of them catch his eye. Then he meanders over to the cats, and wiggles his fingers against one of the plexiglass cages, trying to get the attention of a cute tortoiseshell kitten. The kitten is uninterested.

Eduardo gives up.

When he leaves the pet shop, the hybrid is still reading.

_Mark_, thinks Eduardo, glancing again at the sign on the window. _Skilled, well-trained, clever, sassy_.

He wonders, vaguely, what color his eyes are. How soft his ears are.

Then he turns and walks away.

***

For some reason, he returns to the pet shop the next day, and this time the hybrid in the window is asleep, curled up tightly on the dog bed. Nearby the bed lies his book: a battered copy of _The Odyssey_. Eduardo wonders if the hybrid is actually smart enough to understand it.

He enters the store.

Absently, he heads to the "Hybrids" aisle, examines the collars and cages and beds and cans of food.

Then he walks by the cats, and the fish, and the birds, but before he knows it, he's back at the front of the store.

The hybrid is awake now, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and reading his book. His curls are tousled in a way that makes Eduardo's stomach flip.

A little girl is standing by the case already, her nose pressed to the glass. She looks up as Eduardo approaches.

"I saw it go potty," she announces to him, then sticks out her tongue in apparent disgust.

"What?" asks Eduardo. He wonders where her parents are.

"I saw the hybrid go _potty_ in the _litter_ box, just like my grandma's _cat _does," says the girl emphatically. "Then it scooped litter on top to cover it up." She mimes digging with her hand, then points at the litter box in the corner of the display case. Eduardo stares at it for a few moments, at the uneven surface of the litter, then glances over at the hybrid.

He isn't reading anymore: he's watching them, frowning, his cheeks tinged pink. Like he's embarrassed. Like he knows what they're talking about.

Shit, thinks Eduardo, maybe he can even hear them. The glass probably isn't sound-proof.

"I think it should use a toilet," declares the girl, shrugging. And with that, she waltzes away.

Eduardo stands there, frozen.

The hybrid— Mark— doesn't look away, just holds Eduardo's gaze, his dark blue eyes narrowed slightly, his expression a potent mix of humiliation and anger.

It is not, in any way, the expression of an intellectually inferior creature. It's the expression of someone who resents being gawked at day in and day out, who resents being confined to a space like six feet long and four feet wide, who resents being forced to relieve himself in a fucking litter box, on display for anyone to see.

And Jesus, does he really only have one fucking book to read? Does he ever get to interact with other people? How often do they let him out? His collar looks too tight.

Eduardo lowers his gaze, breaking eye contact with Mark, suddenly acutely uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He doesn't want to be here anymore, doesn't want to think about this.

So he leaves the pet store and heads down Concord, resolving not to come back.

***

But he does come back, three days later.

And the display case is full of puppies.

He bursts into the store.

"Excuse me," he asks an employee breathlessly, "where's Mark?"

"Who?"

"Mark. The hybrid. The one who was in the window."

"Oh, we sold him. Yesterday, I think," says the guy disinterestedly.

"You _sold_ him? Why?"

The guy lifts an eyebrow. "This is a pet store, man. We sell pets."

"But—"

Eduardo doesn't know what to say.

***

He buys himself a goldfish, and wonders why he kind of feels like crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! more to come soon. it's gonna get... darker, in the upcoming chapters, with past abuse and stuff. no darkness between mark and eduardo though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** non-consensual touching and nudity; mark being generally humiliated / degraded / talked about like he's sub-human

Eduardo names his goldfish Trout and gets him a 30-gallon aquarium with an expensive water filter. He decks the tank out with rocks and live plants for Trout's amusement. He provides it with plenty of light. He changes the water every week. He feeds Trout only the highest-quality fish food.

And every time he feeds him, he thinks of Mark: wonders where he is, who bought him, what his life is like. 

It's probably not great, if he's honest with himself.

***

_Can hybrids use toilets?_ he Googles one day. And the answer boils down to: Yes, just like a human can, but if you keep your hybrid caged or chained up, it's more convenient to just give them a litter box. 

It makes Eduardo's stomach churn. He hopes that wherever Mark is, whatever he's going through, he's at least allowed to use a fucking toilet. And that he's being given some books to read, being treated with a modicum of kindness.

But hybrids are expensive, and their owners are almost exclusively filthy rich, and Eduardo knows from experience that kindness and wealth don't often go hand in hand.

So maybe in the best-case scenario, Mark is acting as a personal assistant or a household servant for someone who doesn't outright abuse him. 

But in the worst-case scenario... well. Eduardo has been browsing Craigslist and forums where people sell pets, scanning for posts about hybrids, looking at the names and photos. Looking for Mark. And he hasn't found him, but as he's searched, one thing has become horribly, undeniably clear: Hybrids are sold for sex. 

Every single hybrid for sale is apparently sexy or flirty or really great at fucking. "Hot little sex bunny," reads a post about a female rabbit hybrid. "Perfect plaything for all your intimate needs ;)," touts an ad for a male dog hybrid.

It's something Eduardo had always known— that people used hybrids as sex objects— but never really let himself think about.

Except now he can't _stop_ thinking about it, can't stop worrying that that's what's happening to Mark.

("Skillful," the pet shop had described Mark as, which— Jesus, that had been referring to sex, hadn't it? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.)

***

The semester ends and Eduardo aces his finals. He stays in Cambridge for winter break, which disappoints his mother, but he doesn't trust anyone to take care of Trout while he's gone. January arrives. School starts again.

One evening, when Eduardo should be working on an economics problem set, he opens up Craigslist and, almost on auto-pilot, searches for _hybrid_.

And there it is. The first result.

★ Jan 31 Cat hybrid - "Mark" age 20, excellent fucktoy  
$19000 (Cambridge)

Eduardo's hand is trembling as he clicks on the posting. There's no photo provided, but there is a description:

HYBRID, BROWN CURLY HAIR BLUE EYES VERY PRETTY, 20 YEARS OLD  
Hybrid named "Mark," a feline hybrid (part cat), lots of personality and great in bed. Can do oral, anal top or bottom, handjobs, toys, kinks, anything!!!  
Can cook or clean too if needed, learns quick.  
Very easy to care for. Has all vaccinations and microchip, was purchased from a pet store 3 months ago.  
Collar, leash, and cage included free if you want.  
$19k - a bargain!!

The listing is six days old.

For a while Eduardo just reads and rereads the description, and tries to process the fact that it basically confirms all his worst fears about what's been happening to Mark. Then he grabs his cell phone.

It's almost midnight, but Eduardo doesn't care. He dials the number at the end of the post.

It rings a few times, then someone picks up: "Sean Parker speaking."

"Hello?" says Eduardo. "Uh, sorry it's late, but I'm calling because I saw that you're selling a hybrid on Craigslist?"

"Oh! Yeah, you interested?" asks the guy. Sean.

"I am," says Eduardo. He tries to keep his voice level. "Can I— can I come see him, or...?"

"Yeah, I think that can be arranged," Sean says slowly, like he's doing Eduardo a huge favor. "I'm an entrepreneur, so I'm pretty busy, you know, but— well, tell you what, what time would work for you?"

"Tomorrow morning? 8 AM?" suggests Eduardo, hoping he doesn't sound too eager.

"8 AM... yeah, I think I can fit you in," the guy tells him. He gives Eduardo his address. "And what's your name?"

"Eduardo," says Eduardo.

"Eduardo," repeats Sean. Eduardo doesn't like how he says it. "Well, I'll see you in the morning, Eduardo."

"Hold on, wait," says Eduardo quickly, unable to help himself. "Is he okay?"

"Huh?"

"The hybrid. Is everything okay with him?"

"Oh yeah, like, there's nothing wrong with him at all," says Sean. "Perfect specimen. He's my buddy Mitchell's actually; I'm just handling the sale; but I know Mitch was always really happy with him. Just got sick of him after a while, you know how it goes."

Eduardo sets his jaw. "No, I mean is he doing okay. Are you treating him okay," he says.

And at that, Sean scoffs. "Oh yeah, don't worry, I'm treating him like a fucking king, sure." He sounds like he's being sarcastic, and he gives a little self-satisfied laugh. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, 8 AM, yeah?"

"Yeah," says Eduardo stiffly. "See you then."

***

It rains the next morning.

At 8 AM on the dot, Eduardo arrives at Sean's address, and Sean opens the door to let him into his apartment. It's a large, modern apartment, though the decor isn't to Eduardo's taste at all.

"Welcome, welcome. This is my living room," says Sean, like Eduardo gives a fuck. His voice is slimy and pompous and Eduardo hates him immediately. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink?"

"I'm fine," says Eduardo. "Where's Mark?"

"Single-minded, are we?" smirks Sean. "He's in the guest bedroom, just over here." He gestures toward a closed door, and Eduardo follows him over.

"Mark," Sean sing-songs, turning the doorknob and peering inside the room. "Wakey-wakey... Someone wants to see you." He flashes Eduardo a grin, and beckons for him to follow him inside.

So Eduardo does.

And there's Mark, completely naked, sitting in a metal cage on the floor at the foot of the bed. It's not a small cage— it's big enough for him to sit up straight in at least, and there's probably enough space for him to lie down if he curls up tight— but a cage nonetheless. The bottom is lined with newspaper, and there's a litter box in the corner that looks, and smells, like it hasn't been cleaned in a while.

Mark's thighs are pressed up against his chest and his chin is resting on his knees. He shoots a furious glare at Sean, and then his eyes land on Eduardo.

"So this is him," says Sean, gesturing with his hand. "Cute, isn't he?"

Eduardo just stares. Mark gazes back warily. And maybe Eduardo is imagining it, but he thinks he sees a spark of recognition behind Mark's eyes, like Mark remembers him from the pet store. His tail twitches.

Sean glances over at Eduardo. "Have you ever owned a hybrid before?" he asks.

Eduardo shakes his head.

"Okay," says Sean contemplatively. "Well. This one isn't exactly the _best_-behaved hybrid I've ever met, but nothing that can't be handled. Right, Mark?"

"Fuck you," says Mark.

It's the first time Eduardo's heard him speak.

Sean laughs, then holds out what looks like a remote control and presses a button. Instantly, Mark's face screws up in pain, and his hands leap to the thick black collar that circles his neck.

"You're hurting him," says Eduardo. "Sean—"

Sean laughs again. "I'm just giving him a little shock. Wanna try?" He offers Eduardo the remote.

"No," says Eduardo. "No thank you. I don't—" He looks back at Mark, who's breathing hard but seemingly no longer in pain. "It's a shock collar?"

"Of course," Sean says, pocketing the remote. "The kid's got an attitude. But hey, that's part of his charm, right?" Sean flashes Eduardo a grin. "Wanna see him up close?"

Eduardo presses his lips together as Sean crouches down in front of the cage. "What do you say, kitty? Wanna show him your pretty little ass?" Sean coos.

Mark says nothing, just flattens his ears and glares at Sean like he hates his fucking guts.

Eduardo can relate to the sentiment. "It's fine," he says. "He really doesn't have to—"

But Sean is already unlocking the cage. He opens the little door and motions for Mark to exit. Mark obeys: crawls out and stands up, his arms hugging his abdomen, his tail wrapped around his legs. He's too thin, too pale, obviously in worse shape than he was back at the pet store.

Eduardo lowers his eyes.

"What, you don't like him?" asks Sean, sounding almost hurt.

"No, he's—" Eduardo looks up. "He's fine." He tries not to stare at Mark's dick, tries not meet Mark's eye. "He's great."

"He is, isn't he?" says Sean. "I'd keep him myself but I think it'd interfere with my entrepreneurial enterprises, having a hybrid to take care of. Turn around," he orders Mark. Mark turns. Sean slaps his ass. "You can touch him," he adds to Eduardo.

"No," says Eduardo. "No, it's alright."

Sean looks perplexed, but doesn't press the matter. "Suit yourself," he says. "Anyway, so he can do sex, obviously. That's what Mitch used him for mainly, and I've tested him out myself and can confirm— he's good. So you can rest assured about that." He grins at Eduardo again, then waits, like he expects some kind of response.

Eduardo forces himself to nod.

Sean grabs Mark's shoulder and turns him back around, then flicks a finger at his flaccid cock.

Mark's ears go flat against his head, but other than that, he doesn't react, just stands there with his arms crossed and his jaw set.

"And Mitch said he's pretty decent at housework too," Sean goes on, playing idly with one of Mark's nipples. "Cooking, cleaning, laundry, simple stuff like that. Let's see, what else... Oh, he's very low-maintenance, in terms of care. Just a can or two of food a day, and you can always kinda play with it— like, he doesn't get to eat unless he behaves or whatever; Mitch said he responds well to that. Don't you, kitty?"

Mark looks away.

And Jesus Christ, Eduardo wants to break something. But he tries to channel his father, tries to be like any good businessman, calm and collected under pressure. 

He turns to Sean and says, very evenly:

"I'd like to buy him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please leave a comment if you're interested or enjoyed! it would really mean a lot to me!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Mark doesn't give any reaction to the news that Eduardo wants to buy him, except that his tail curls more tightly around his knees.

Sean, on the other hand, whips his head around and gapes. "You want him?" he asks, sounding almost surprised.

"Yes," says Eduardo solemnly. "I do."

Sean blinks, then smiles. "Great!" he says. "That's great. I've got his paperwork here, vaccinations, all that shit." He rummages around on the dresser and produces an envelope, which he hands to Eduardo. "And Mitch gave me his microchip number and the code to unlock his collar; I can text those to you in a second. Do you want the cage or do you have your own?"

"I don't want the cage," says Eduardo, unable to entirely keep the edge out of his voice. What he wants is to just grab Mark and run. "Is a check okay, as payment?" he asks.

"Oh. A check is fine, yeah. You can make it out to Sean Parker, S-E-A-N for Sean. And— no returns, no refunds, nothing like that."

"Understood," says Eduardo, taking out his checkbook. He writes a check for nineteen thousand dollars and gives it to Sean, who snatches it and looks it over, his brow furrowed. 

"Looks good," he says at last, pocketing it. "Well..." He glances between Mark and Eduardo. "I guess that's it then. Congrats. He's yours." He opens a drawer and takes out a leash, clips it to Mark's collar, and gives it to Eduardo, who holds it limply between his fingers. "The collar's got GPS tracking; the tracking number's printed on the side."

"Right," says Eduardo. The leash feels heavy in his hand. He turns to Mark. "Do— do you want to go now?" he asks uncomfortably.

Mark doesn't answer, just keeps his eyes down and angles his arms to cover his bare chest more fully. Like he's embarrassed to be naked. And shit, why wouldn't he be? Eduardo clears his throat, and almost asks Sean if he has any spare clothes, then decides he doesn't want to get laughed at.

"Come on, Mark," he says, giving the leash a little shake.

And at that, Mark looks up. "Should I crawl, or walk?" he asks, his voice caustic.

Eduardo swallows. "Walk," he says quietly. "You can walk."

So Mark walks, and Eduardo starts to head toward to door of the bedroom.

"Oh wait," says Sean.

Eduardo stops. Sean reaches into his pocket.

Suddenly Mark stiffens and grabs at his collar, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey! Stop it," Eduardo says sharply. "Give it to me."

Sean snickers, then hands Eduardo the remote. Eduardo would love to zap _him_ with a shock collar, see how _he_ likes it, but he keeps his cool. He puts the remote in his pocket next to the envelope of paperwork. "I'll see myself out," he tells Sean tersely. "Mark. Let's go." He begins to walk again, and Mark follows after him.

"See ya," Sean says with a wave and an infuriating little smile, leaning back against the dresser. "Good luck with him. You're gonna need it." He winks.

Mark hesitates a little at that, like he thinks Eduardo might suddenly rethink his purchase and decide to leave him behind.

But Eduardo doesn't even dignify the statement with a response, just tugs gently at the leash and leads Mark from the bedroom, through the living room, and out of the apartment.

***

"It's raining," says Mark, coming to halt as they step out under an awning outside the apartment building. Then he flinches, as though he expects to be hit or shocked or something.

"I know," Eduardo tells him. "My car isn't far; it's that silver one on the curb; but here." He lets go of the leash, shrugs off his rain jacket, and hands it to Mark. "Wear this. And—" He removes his blazer too. "And put this around your waist."

Mark obeys, tying the blazer around his waist so the arms hang down in front of his dick, then putting on the jacket. He zips it closed.

It's not much, thinks Eduardo, and he's still barefoot, but at least he's not naked anymore.

"I'll give you real clothes when we get to my house," Eduardo tells him. "Come on."

Mark bends down to pick up the handle of the leash. "Here," he says, holding it out to Eduardo, who takes it uncomfortably.

And they walk to his car, Mark affixed to the leash and trailing behind Eduardo, his eyes glued to the ground.

***

"Hi, by the way," Eduardo tells Mark, as he starts the car and turns up the heater all the way. "It's nice to meet you. Uh. I'm Eduardo."

Mark glances at him, then looks away, stares out the car window.

"Your name is Mark, right?" Eduardo adds.

Mark still says nothing.

And of course Eduardo doesn't personally mind the silence, but he's aware that for Mark, this is an act of defiance. He probably expects to be punished for it, for blatantly ignoring his owner, and yet he's doing it anyway.

It's a relief to Eduardo, honestly, to know that Mark isn't completely broken, completely cowed.

He pulls the car away from the curb.

"So I need to go shopping for you," he tells Mark as they drive. "I don't have food or a bed or anything yet. We'll stop by my place first, get you dressed, and then you can either come along shopping or just stay at home, whichever you prefer."

Mark doesn't respond.

"Mark?"

"I'd rather stay home," Mark mutters.

"Okay." Eduardo had expected as much. "Sounds good. So you can just relax. And you can take a shower too, when I get back," he adds, because honestly Mark kind of stinks, like body odor and an unclean litter box.

Mark nods vaguely.

"I saw you in a pet shop a couple of months ago," says Eduardo then. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes."

"I've been worried about you," Eduardo admits quietly.

Mark scoffs, but when Eduardo glances over, he looks confused. Disconcerted. 

So Eduardo decides to leave him alone, and they pass the remainder of the car ride in silence.

***

Mark stands in the entryway of Eduardo's apartment, his tail swishing back and forth, like he's afraid to go any further without permission.

"You can come in," says Eduardo, unclipping the leash from Mark's collar.

Mark takes a few tentative steps forward. 

He's gripping the cuffs of the jacket sleeves with his fingers, his shoulders hunched up defensively. He looks so small.

"Come on," Eduardo prompts gently. "We're going to my room, it's over here."

Mark frowns, but follows Eduardo to the bedroom, and stands there watching as Eduardo digs through his dresser.

At last he finds a Harvard hoodie and pair of Harvard sweatpants that he bought his freshman year, then he opens another drawer and takes out some socks and a pair of boxers. "Here you go," he says, handing the clothes to Mark. "They might be a little too big, but..."

Wordlessly, Mark unzips the jacket and unties the blazer, letting both of them drop to the floor at his feet. Eduardo knows, deep down, that he should turn away, try to give Mark some privacy, but he finds himself staring at Mark's scrawny naked body instead. Mark meets his eye for a moment, then drops his gaze. He puts on the hoodie, grabs the boxers, and—

"Shit, wait," says Eduardo. "Should I cut a hole for your tail or something?"

Mark just shakes his head as he steps into the boxers. He pulls on the sweatpants next, then bends over to put on the socks. When he's finished, he stands back up.

He looks uneasy, swallowed up in Eduardo's clothes. Eduardo wants to hug him.

But just then, his cell phone buzzes.

yo it's sean  
microchip # ifjqw68p91  
password is 1234  
collar code 94353

"Right," says Eduardo. "Let's take off your collar."

Mark frowns, and winces when Eduardo's fingers brush against his neck.

"It's okay, I'm just gonna unlock it," Eduardo assures him, entering the five-digit code in the side of the plastic black collar. It clicks open, and Eduardo quickly removes it.

There's a deep imprint left around Mark's neck— Jesus, the collar must have been on so fucking tight— and the skin underneath is red and irritated. Mark touches the area mutely.

"Does that feel better?" asks Eduardo.

Mark just shrugs.

"I hope it does," Eduardo says. "Come on, let's go," he adds, reaching out to guide Mark by the shoulder. Mark flinches away from his hand, but nods, and follows Eduardo into the living room, where Eduardo flops down on the couch. He pulls his laptop from the coffee table onto his lap.

Mark remains standing nearby, fidgeting with his sleeves. Eduardo wonders how long it's been since he was allowed to wear clothes. Maybe not since he was at the pet shop.

"You can sit," Eduardo says, with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Mark sits down on the carpet.

"I meant— on a chair, or the couch..."

Mark eyes him suspiciously. "I'm fine right here," he says.

Eduardo opens his mouth to argue, then thinks better of it. For all he knows, Mark's never been allowed to sit on furniture before, which is— well, really fucked up, but Eduardo doesn't want to overwhelm him or something.

So he turns his attention back to his computer and opens up Google. _What to buy for a hybrid_, he searches, because he really has no idea.

The first search result is an article with what claims to be a comprehensive list. He skims the first few paragraphs— hybrids are easy to care for and make great pets, blah blah blah.

Then there's a list of supplies to buy:

\- a collar and leash  
\- a cage and/or a bed  
\- a supply of hybrid food  
\- a water bottle or water dispenser  
\- a litter box and litter (unless you prefer that your hybrid use the toilet)  
\- clothing (optional, unless you plan to take your hybrid outside)

This list is followed by the words "DON'T FORGET!" and a exhortation to get your hybrid vaccinated ("It's the law"), microchipped, and registered at https://www.hybrid.gov/registration.

Right, thinks Eduardo. The microchip. He visits the website, enters the number and password Sean texted him, and fills out the form to tell the government that he's Mark's new owner. It makes him feel dirty.

"Okay, you're all registered," he announces to Mark as he changes the password.

Mark's ears flick, but he doesn't respond.

"But I don't— I don't actually think of myself as your owner," Eduardo tells him quietly. "Like, I know I bought you, but I don't consider you a pet. Or property. I think it's wrong, that people can own hybrids like this."

Mark lifts his eyes, and stares at Eduardo for a moment. "Whatever," he says at last. "Good for you."

He sounds distrustful, and disdainful, and disinterested.

But most of all, he sounds defeated.

And it makes Eduardo's chest hurt.

***

Eduardo drives through the rain to the pet store on Concord.

It's the first time he's been there in months, and this time there's a rabbit in the display case.

He walks inside, armed with a printout of the article about what to buy, and heads to the aisle for hybrids.

He fills his cart with a jumbo sized hybrid bed and cans of premium hybrid food. He also gets an adjustable lightweight collar and a thin, elegant leash, only because unleashed hybrids aren't allowed outside. 

He makes his purchases, returns to his car, and drives back home.

The entire outing takes maybe thirty minutes in all.

But when Eduardo gets back to his apartment, the door is unlocked.

And Mark is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks very much for reading! kudos and comments mean the world to me!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Frantically, Eduardo re-checks the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the closet. He even looks under the bed.

But Mark is gone.

The contents of Eduardo's backpack are strewn across the living room carpet, and his backpack is missing. Mark must have taken it, along with the laptop, which isn't on the coffee table where Eduardo left it. Fuck.

In the bedroom, several dresser drawers are open and their contents disturbed, like Mark rifled through them looking for something. A jacket, maybe, or a hat to hide his ears.

Eduardo sighs.

He's not angry, just worried, and if he's honest, maybe a little disappointed. Because he'd wanted to believe that Mark would somehow be able to sense that Eduardo was different from his past owners, wanted to hope that Mark would at least give him a chance.

It had been a stupid way to think. Mark had had no reason to trust him yet, no reason to expect anything from him but more abuse. So of course he'd run, when given the chance. Eduardo should have expected it.

Eduardo sits down on the couch and runs his fingers through his hair. Without a collar, there's no way to track Mark's location, and nothing to indicate that he's a hybrid, as long as he keeps his ears and tail covered.

Eduardo hopes he's safe. He hopes he's dry, somewhere out of the rain. 

And most of all, he hopes against hope that he decides to come back home.

***

Eduardo skips class the next day, and the day after that, in case Mark shows up at the apartment. Then the weekend arrives. The rain finally clears up.

Eduardo calls local shelters and hospitals and veterinarians, but none of them have seen any hybrids matching Mark's description.

By Monday, Mark still hasn't returned. Eduardo goes to class, and that afternoon, he buys himself a new laptop.

It feels like admitting defeat.

***

But at 3 AM on Tuesday morning, Eduardo wakes up to his cell phone ringing.

He answers it, groggily, and is met with a brusque male voice.

"Hello, is this Eduardo Saverin?"

"Yes," says Eduardo, frowning.

"Hello, this is Officer DeWolfe calling from the Cambridge Police Department. We have a hybrid down at the station and according to its microchip, it's registered to you?"

"You found Mark?" Eduardo chokes out.

"Not sure of its name, but it's a white male, curly hair—"

And Eduardo so relieved that he halfway stops listening after that, though he does manage to pick up the gist of what the officer is telling him: 

Mark was caught shoplifting tonight from a convenience store. The store's owner isn't pressing charges, but she did call the police to report an unaccompanied hybrid. The police are required to take all unaccompanied hybrids down to the station to look for their owners. It's illegal to let a hybrid out in public without human supervision and a leash, so Eduardo will be fined. He'll also need to bring his ID, along with a leash and a collar, to the station in order to be allowed to take Mark home.

"Is he okay? Is he hurt at all?" asks Eduardo in a rush, pulling on a pair of slacks with one hand.

"No idea, didn't ask," the officer says disinterestedly. "It seems fine though; it's certainly got a mouth on it. Been cussing out everyone it comes in contact with." 

"He's not an 'it,'" Eduardo says as he buttons up his shirt. "He's a person." _And if he cussed you out, you probably deserved it_, he thinks but doesn't say. 

The officer scoffs. "Hybrids aren't—"

"Anyway, I'll be right there. Thank you for calling," Eduardo cuts him off. "Goodbye."

He hangs up before the officer can respond.

Then he steps into his shoes, grabs a coat, and leaves for the police station.

***

Mark is being kept in a holding cell.

"Why?" asks Eduardo. "Is that even legal, if he's not being charged with a crime?"

"It's just standard procedure, sir," says the police officer behind the front desk. She hands Eduardo a clipboard and pen. "We keep hybrids handcuffed in cells for the safety of everyone."

"Wait, he's handcuffed too?"

"Like I said, it's a safety precaution. The quicker you could fill out those discharge papers, the quicker he'll get out," says the officer, indicating the clipboard.

So Eduardo sighs, and fills out the papers.

After that he's issued a $500 ticket for allowing a hybrid outside unaccompanied, and he signs, agreeing to pay the fine.

Then he has to show his driver's license and the leash and collar he brought.

"Alright, that's all in order," says the officer. "I'll get you his stuff."

She leaves the desk, and returns a few minutes later with a large bag containing Eduardo's backpack and a Harvard beanie. For Mark's ears, Eduardo assumes.

"Can I see him now?" he asks, looking up from the bag.

The officer nods. "Follow me."

***

Mark is sitting alone on the ground of the holding cell, his hands cuffed behind his back. He glances up when Eduardo and the police officer approach, then quickly lowers his eyes again.

The officer unlocks the cell. "Get up," she says to Mark. "Let's go, your owner's here."

Mark doesn't move.

The officer snaps her fingers. "Hey. I don't have all night," she says.

Mark stands up. He's still wearing Eduardo's clothes, and on his feet are a pair of Eduardo's flip flops. His curls hang lank around his face, and there's a cut above his eyebrow.

He approaches the cell door silently, coming to a stop in front of Eduardo.

"Put the collar and leash on him," the officer instructs Eduardo.

Eduardo complies, his hands trembling slightly. He'll take off the collar as soon as they're back at his apartment, he resolves.

"Alright then, you're free to go," says the officer, unlocking Mark's handcuffs and removing them roughly.

Mark shoots her a glare, then glances at Eduardo, and all the bravado drains from his face. He looks terrified.

"It's okay," Eduardo tells him gently. "Come on. We're going home."

***

Mark sits in the car with his knees drawn up toward his chest and his body pressed against the passenger side door, like he's trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and Eduardo.

Eduardo starts the car and drives out of the parking lot.

He's turning out onto the street when Mark clears his throat. "Technically, I didn't break any rules, because you never ordered me not to run away," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I'm just saying, it wouldn't be fair for you to punish me, because I didn't actually disobey you, seeing as you hadn't given me any explicit instructions not to leave."

"Mark, I'm not gonna punish you," Eduardo tells him. "I'm not angry."

"If you didn't want me to run away, you shouldn't have left me alone without a collar," Mark goes on, as though Eduardo hadn't spoken at all.

"I know," says Eduardo. "I'm sure I would have run away too, in your position."

Mark shifts a little, and doesn't respond. Eduardo looks over at him, tries to read his expression in the darkness, but Mark turns his face toward the window.

For a while they drive in silence.

"What did you take?" Eduardo asks then. "From the convenience store?"

"Tuna," mutters Mark after a few moments.

"Are you hungry?"

Mark just scoffs, and Eduardo feels like kicking himself. Of course Mark is fucking hungry; he was obviously underfed when Eduardo bought him, and he ran away before he had a chance to eat. He's spent the last five days on the streets with no money, and he was just caught trying to steal food.

"That's alright, you can eat when we get home," Eduardo assures him. "I don't have any, like, actual canned tuna, but I do have plenty of tuna-flavored hybrid food."

Mark is quiet.

They reach Eduardo's apartment building and Eduardo pulls into a parking space.

"Mark, I _swear_ I'm not mad," he says. "Okay? You don't need to worry about that. I'm just happy you're safe." He removes the key from the ignition. Mark still doesn't reply.

"Mark?" tries Eduardo.

"What?"

Mark's voice is stony.

Eduardo sighs. "Nothing," he says. "Let's just— let's go inside and get you some food, okay?"

There's a long, long pause. But finally Mark inhales, and exhales, and says, very quietly: "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed. i'm really desperate for feedback ;_;


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright, let me take off your collar," says Eduardo to Mark as soon as they're inside his apartment. He sets down the bag containing his backpack and reaches for Mark's neck, but Mark jerks away.

"Why?" Mark asks, taking a step back.

"Because there's no point in you wearing it if you're not in public," Eduardo tells him.

Mark holds onto his collar with one hand and eyes Eduardo suspiciously. "But I ran away," he says. "If you take off my collar I could run away again."

"Will you?" asks Eduardo.

Mark just shrugs.

Eduardo sighs. "Okay, well," he says. "If you want to run away again, that's your choice. I'm not trying to hold you prisoner here or anything. This isn't a collar for restraint, and it isn't a shock collar or a geo-tracking collar."

Mark's distrustful expression clouds with confusion. "It isn't?"

"No, it isn't; its only purpose is to attach to a leash. It doesn't have a lock. You can take if off yourself, even," Eduardo goes on. "There's a button on the side."

Mark frowns, then moves his fingers along the collar until they find the button. He presses it, and the collar clicks open. "I can take it off?" he asks.

"Of course," says Eduardo.

So Mark removes the thin plastic collar.

He stares down at it for a moment, still frowning, before handing it to Eduardo.

Eduardo tosses it onto the carpet by the door, since they won't need it unless they go outside. "Alright then," he says. "Time for food?"

Mark hesitates, then nods.

***

"So I've got a lot of different hybrid food," Eduardo says over his shoulder, opening a cupboard while Mark stands on the threshold of the kitchen. The cans are large: they look like soup cans. Eduardo begins to read off the flavors.

"We've got beef, cheese, and spinach; turkey, cheese, and carrots; tuna, scallops, and broccoli—"

"That one's fine," says Mark, staring down at the tile floor of the kitchen.

Eduardo takes down the can and opens it. "Do you just eat out of a bowl?" he asks.

Mark nods.

So Eduardo shakes the can until the food— a gelatinous brown cylinder of vegetables and meat that looks thoroughly unappetizing— slides out into a bowl. It smells disgusting, but Mark was the one who chose the flavor, so he must like it. Maybe because he's part cat? Eduardo gets out a fork and brings the meal to the table.

Mark watches from a few feet away, frowning, his arms crossed.

"Here you go," says Eduardo, with a smile. "Bon appétit."

Mark inches forward cautiously. When he reaches the table, he snatches up the bowl and the fork and sits down on the floor, against the wall.

He begins to eat immediately.

"Why don't you sit at the table?" suggests Eduardo gently.

Mark looks up, his cheeks full, and scowls for a moment. Then he continues to shovel down the food.

Eduardo crouches beside him. "Mark, I don't like you sitting on the floor all the time, like you think you're unworthy of chairs or something."

Mark shrugs and takes another giant bite of food. "This is fine," he says tersely.

And Eduardo wonders what kind of abuse could have caused someone as strong-willed as Mark to be this afraid of sitting at a table like a human being.

Eduardo says nothing more, but stays seated there beside him, watching as Mark finishes his food and licks the bottom of the bowl.

"You want another can-full?" he asks when Mark is done.

Mark doesn't answer, but eyes go wide with quiet longing.

Eduardo smiles. "I'll get you more," he says, standing up and returning to the cupboard.

Mark chooses the "chicken, mushrooms, and peas" flavor this time, and devours it just as quickly as he'd devoured the first serving.

Eduardo sits next to him on the floor again as he eats. "Is that stuff actually good?" he asks, as Mark gulps down his last bite.

Mark shrugs, then nods.

Eduardo squints at him, trying to decide if he's telling the truth. To be fair, Mark had probably been so hungry just now that anything would have tasted good. "Here, I'll take the bowl and wash it out," Eduardo offers after a moment.

Mark hesitates, clutching the bowl a bit more tightly, like he thinks this is some kind of test.

"Mark. It's okay, just give it to me."

There's another moment of hesitation. Then Mark gives him the bowl.

Eduardo can feel him watching carefully from his place on the floor as Eduardo rinses off the bowl and sets it in the drying rack. With his previous owners, Eduardo figures, Mark had probably always been the one who had to do scut work like this. "You're not my servant," he says, turning to face Mark. "Okay? We'll split chores evenly here."

Mark just stares at him.

Eduardo sighs. He'll understand eventually, he tells himself; he just needs time. "Do you want to go to bed?" he asks. He glances at his watch. "It's already 4:30. You can shower tomorrow, right?"

Mark nods, and stands up tentatively.

"I have a bed for you," Eduardo tells him, walking toward the bedroom. Mark follows a few paces behind him. "Like, a hybrid bed. And I'll get you blankets and pillows and stuff."

He opens the bedroom door and steps inside. Mark stands in the doorway as Eduardo takes the rolled-up hybrid bed out of his closet and lays it down on the floor. It's quite plush, and it's about the size of a twin mattress; much bigger than the dog bed Mark had had back at the pet shop.

Mark just stares at it.

Eduardo takes down two pillows and several blankets from the top shelf of his closet and sets them down in the bed for Mark to use.

"Alright," he yawns. "I've got to brush my teeth, and then I'll be back. I don't think I have a spare toothbrush, but we'll get you one tomorrow, okay?"

Mark doesn't respond.

"You want to pick out something to wear to sleep? Anything in my dresser is fine. Then you can get all ready."

Mark sets his jaw and nods.

Eduardo smiles at him.

Mark doesn't smile back.

***

When Eduardo emerges from the bathroom a couple minutes later, Mark is sitting in the hybrid bed, stark naked, with his eyes shut tightly and three fingers up his ass.

"Mark!" cries Eduardo, averting his gaze. "What are you doing?"

He hears rustling, but Mark doesn't answer.

"Mark?" Eduardo prompts. He risks a glance in Mark's direction. 

He doesn't have his fingers in his anus anymore; he's just sitting naked in the bed, staring into his lap.

"You said to get ready," he mumbles. "If you didn't want me to stretch myself you really should have been more clear."

"Mark," breathes Eduardo. "Jesus, I just meant to put on some pajamas. I'm not gonna have sex with you."

Mark lifts his eyes. "Why not?" he asks. He sounds scared.

"Because I don't have sex with people who don't want it," says Eduardo. "That isn't why I bought you."

"Then why did you buy me?" asks Mark, seemingly unconvinced.

"Because you don't belong in a fucking cage, and you don't deserve to be abused," Eduardo says, then frowns. "You do know that, right?"

Mark just looks away.

A few moments pass in silence.

"I'm gonna wash my hands," Mark mutters at last. And, still naked, he stands up and heads into the bathroom.

***

Eduardo picks out fresh boxers, a pair of socks, and an oversized Phoenix Club t-shirt for Mark to wear to bed.

Mark puts them on slowly, never once taking his eyes off Eduardo, like he expects him to change his mind at any moment.

Once he's dressed, he stands there expectantly, his tail whipping behind him.

"You can lie down," Eduardo tells him, pulling off his pants and coat and tossing them in his hamper. He's too tired to deal with the buttons on his shirt, so he leaves it on and gets into bed.

Mark follows suit, curling up in the hybrid bed and pulling some of the blankets over his body.

Eduardo leans over and turns off the lamp on his nightstand. "Goodnight, Mark," he says.

"Goodnight, sir," Mark mutters, without a hint of deference in his voice.

"Don't run away this time," Eduardo murmurs tiredly.

He's asleep before he hears Mark respond.

But in his dreams, Mark promises to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! please leave me some feedback/thoughts in a comment!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of past abuse / past food deprivation i guess

Eduardo wakes up at 10 AM the next morning, and realizes at once that 1) he forgot to set his alarm last night and 2) he has now missed his 8 AM class.

Then he remembers Mark, and any concern about missing class disappears. He sits up hurriedly and glances over the side of his bed.

Mark is still there: awake, sitting in his bed with his legs crossed, staring into space.

"Hey, you stayed," says Eduardo, smiling. Mark looks up with a start, his ears going flat. "How'd you sleep?"

At that, Mark drops his gaze, and Eduardo has a sudden sneaking suspicion that the answer is, he didn't. "Do you want to keep resting?" he asks.

But Mark shakes his head. "I have to pee."

Eduardo blinks. "You— Jesus, Mark, go ahead, you don't have to ask," he tells Mark quickly. "You know where the bathroom is, right?"

"You want me to use your toilet?" asks Mark.

"Yeah, of course. Jesus," says Eduardo. Had Mark thought he was going to have to use a litter box here as well? "Do— do you know how?" he adds.

Mark gives him a scathing look. "Yes, I do."

"Okay, I was just... making sure." Eduardo swallows. "Anyway, go ahead. And feel free to use my towel to dry your hands on."

Mark nods, then stands up hesitantly and walks to the ensuite bathroom. He gives Eduardo one cautious glance before stepping inside.

He doesn't close the door— fuck, was he never allowed privacy with his past owners?— and Eduardo listens uncomfortably to the sounds of him peeing and flushing and washing his hands.

He emerges with his head bowed and stands there toeing at the carpet, looking vulnerable, somehow, dressed in Eduardo's boxers and t-shirt.

"Do you want breakfast now?" Mark asks, after a moment's silence.

Eduardo shrugs. "Sure, now'd be fine; are you hungry?"

Mark hesitates, then shakes his head. "What do you want?" he asks.

"Huh?"

"For breakfast," says Mark. "I can't read your mind."

And finally Eduardo understands: Mark thinks that he's the one who has to cook breakfast.

"Mark," Eduardo says quietly. "I told you yesterday, you're not my servant. You're like— my guest, okay? I'll make food for both of us, don't worry about that."

Mark looks up. He says nothing, but it's obvious that he's confused, and maybe a little frightened.

"Come on," says Eduardo, getting out of bed. "Let's go eat." He beckons to Mark, and Mark trudges along dutifully after him.

"You can sit at the table," Eduardo tells him when they reach the kitchen. 

Mark sits on the floor instead, his hands folded in his lap.

Eduardo sighs, but lets it go. He opens the cupboard where he keeps Mark's food and scans the flavors. "How does salmon, cheese, and apples sound?" he asks.

"Fine," mumbles Mark, his eyes downcast.

Eduardo gets out a bowl, opens the can, and shakes out the food. It's another slimy cylinder, more pink this time than brown, uniform in texture except for occasional little chunks spread throughout it. It smells as gross as it looks. 

He brings it to Mark, along with a fork, and Mark takes it from him with careful hands. 

And despite claiming he wasn't hungry, he starts to eat like he's starving.

Eduardo heads over to the freezer and grabs two slices of Eggo French toast for himself. He puts them in the toaster and waits, watching as Mark consumes his disgusting-looking food.

"Did your other owners feed you that stuff too?" he asks curiously.

"Sometimes," shrugs Mark, his mouth full.

Eduardo frowns. "What about the other times?"

"They'd just feed me whatever they weren't gonna finish," Mark says.

"So... human food?" Eduardo's frown deepens.

Mark squints at him. "Yes," he says, like Eduardo is being stupid.

"Wait," says Eduardo, "hybrids can eat human food?"

"Obviously," Mark says, halfway rolling his eyes. "We have the same digestive system as humans do." He scoops up some more pinkish mush with his fork and puts it in his mouth.

"Mark, Jesus Christ," says Eduardo. "Why am I feeding you this hybrid crap then? You should have said something."

He feels like an idiot. He hurries over to where Mark is sitting, grabs the bowl and fork out of his hands, and goes to the sink.

But as soon as he starts to scrape the food into the drain, Mark lets out a strangled little whimper.

Eduardo looks over, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just—" Mark lowers his eyes. "I'd rather have eaten that than scraps," he mumbles. He glances up for a fraction of a second, meets Eduardo's eye, then looks away, wincing.

"What do you mean?" asks Eduardo slowly, still standing by the sink, the bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"It's more filling," Mark says in a small voice.

"No, I meant— what did you mean by _scraps_? Because I'm not gonna feed you scraps, Mark. Jesus, did you think— Mark, listen, you're gonna eat the same portions as I am, okay?"

Mark lifts his face and stares, so obviously surprised that it fills Eduardo up with righteous fury.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eduardo fumes, beginning to shove the hybrid food down the drain with renewed vigor. "What the fuck did your old owners do, finish eating and then give you the plate to lick clean or some shit?"

Mark shrugs. "I guess," he says, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "But some of them let me eat old leftovers from the fridge, too. And they'd usually give me hybrid food if I was good." He sounds embarrassed, as if it's his fault that his former owners starved him. Fuck.

"Okay, well, that's fucked up," Eduardo says, washing hybrid food off his hands and leaving the bowl in the sink. "With me you're gonna eat as much as you want, alright? Starting now."

Mark looks away.

The toaster pops, and Eduardo opens it up.

"What do you want on your French toast?" he asks Mark, setting each slice on its own plate.

Mark just shrugs.

"Have you ever had French toast before?"

"No."

Eduardo sighs, which makes Mark flinch. Jesus.

"Mark, I'm not mad at you," Eduardo tells him quietly, slathering the slices of French toast with butter and maple syrup. "I'm mad at your old owners, for how they treated you." 

Mark remains quiet, and Eduardo sighs again. He grabs some silverware and napkins, then goes over and takes a seat on the floor beside Mark. "Here," he says, handing Mark a plate of French toast.

Mark takes it from him wonderingly, stares down at it for a moment, then picks up his slice like a sandwich and bites into it.

"It's good, huh?" asks Eduardo.

Mark nods shyly.

"I'm sorry for giving you the hybrid stuff before," Eduardo offers. "I just assumed it was the only thing hybrids could eat; I don't know why it didn't even occur to me to, like, ask you."

Mark just shrugs and takes another bite, apparently uninterested in Eduardo's apology. Eduardo wonders if anyone's ever apologized to him before. Maybe they haven't. Maybe he doesn't know what to say in response.

Eduardo pushes aside that thought and begins to cut up his own French toast into squares. Mark glances over, eyeing the knife and fork, but continues to use his hands. 

They eat in silence.

When Mark finishes his slice, he licks the syrup off his fingers, then looks at Eduardo. "Thank you," he says.

Eduardo stares at Mark, at the curve of his lips, at his perfect auburn curls. He wants to touch him, to kiss him, but he doesn't dare. "You don't have to thank me," he says.

Mark's brow furrows slightly, and he looks away, beginning to swirl his finger in the syrup still on his plate.

"You want another piece?" asks Eduardo.

As if by reflex, Mark starts to shake his head. Then he stops. Meets Eduardo's eye. "Okay," he says quietly, sounding almost scared.

But when Eduardo smiles at him, Mark smiles back, a little. 

And Eduardo feels like his heart might burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! if you leave a kudos or drop a comment letting me know your thoughts, it would be much appreciated! :)


	7. Chapter 7

After they've both finished a second slice of French toast and Eduardo has brought their dishes to the sink, he asks if Mark wants to take a shower.

Mark nods cautiously, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Eduardo frowns. "Your old owners did let you shower, right?"

"Most of them," shrugs Mark, looking away.

Eduardo decides not to dwell on the fact that that means some owners did not. "So... you know how, and everything," he says.

"Yes," says Mark tersely. 

"Okay, good. Sorry. Just— come on."

They go to the bedroom, and Eduardo gathers Mark some towels and a change of clothes. He sets them down on the bathroom counter, and Mark stands just outside the bathroom doorway, watching.

"I've got soap and 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner," Eduardo tells him, gesturing toward the shower. "You can use them, okay?"

Mark nods.

"And take as much time as you need."

Mark nods again, then pulls off his boxers without hesitation and starts to remove his shirt.

"Mark—" says Eduardo.

Mark freezes. "What?"

Eduardo stares for a second, but only a second, before dropping his gaze. He's not sure what to say— _Don't get undressed in front of me_?_ You deserve privacy_?Would Mark even understand what he's talking about? He's probably spent half his life naked, for fuck's sake. "Nothing," Eduardo mutters at last. "Just— have a good shower, okay? I'll be in the living room."

Mark doesn't answer.

Eduardo slides past him, leaves the bedroom, and flops down on the couch.

He waits until he hears the shower turn on, and then he gets out his new laptop.

***

He spends the next thirty minutes reading the Wikipedia article on hybrids. It's equal parts fascinating and depressing as fuck.

_Common misconceptions about hybrids_, he Googles next. He clicks on the first result, which brings him to some site for hybrid owners.

_Can Hybrids Talk?_ is the title of the page.

Eduardo frowns and starts reading: _It's a common misconception that hybrids are biologically unable to speak. But if you've just purchased your own hybrid, you may be surprised to find that this isn't true! All hybrids are physically capable of speech. Though some hybrids are in fact raised in environments that inhibit language acquisition, most are taught to speak in childhood. Luckily, it's easy to train your hybrid to keep quiet if that's what you prefer! Keep reading to find out how._

Eduardo shuts his laptop.

Jesus Christ. _Some hybrids are raised in environments that inhibit language acquisition?_ He can't imagine what that means except that they're neglected so badly that they never learn to talk.

He wonders who taught Mark to talk. Wonders where he grew up. Wonders if Mark's ever had an owner who didn't let him speak. He probably has. Fuck.

Just then he hears the water from the shower stop running, and a few minutes later Mark emerges from the bedroom with damp curls, barefoot and dressed in fresh boxers and a Harvard t-shirt.

"Hey," says Eduardo, trying to smile, his mind still stuck on hybrids being forbidden from speaking.

"Hey," says Mark. He isn't looking at Eduardo; he's staring uncomfortably at—

Oh. At the bag of his possessions from the police station, the bag with Eduardo's backpack in it. It's lying on the ground in front of the couch. Eduardo had forgotten about it.

He opens up the bag and withdraws the backpack— still damp, probably from the rain. For some reason, Mark flinches.

"Here," says Eduardo. 

He holds out the backpack, and Mark takes it trepidatiously, hugs it to his chest. Maybe it's full of stuff Mark acquired while on the run?

"Did... you put anything of yours in there?" Eduardo asks.

Mark hesitates, then nods.

"That's fine," Eduardo says quickly, trying to reassure Mark, who looks— really frightened, for some reason. "You can keep whatever you put inside, don't worry. I have an empty drawer in my dresser that you can use. Oh," he adds, "and about the laptop—"

"I'm sorry," Mark blurts out, dropping to his knees. 

"Mark, what—"

"I'm sorry, it was because of the rain; it got wet, and by the time I realized— it wouldn't turn on. It wasn't my fault. I mean it was, but—"

"Hey," says Eduardo, trying to process Mark's disjointed explanation. The laptop is badly damaged by water, he gathers, which doesn't matter to him; he's already got a new one and all his files were backed up on an external hard-drive. "Mark, it's—"

"You can do whatever you want to me, just please don't sell me?" says Mark, still kneeling. He bows his head and clutches the backpack more tightly. "Not that I'm trying to tell you what you can and can't do, obviously, just— Okay, wait, if you _do_ sell me, at least let it be an informed decision; at least fuck me first, alright? Because I'm really good—"

"_Mark_," says Eduardo shakily.

"I can do anything you want—"

"Mark!"

Mark breaks off and lifts his face a fraction of an inch.

"Jesus, calm down, okay? I'm not angry," says Eduardo. "I don't care about my laptop; I already bought a replacement; it's no big deal. I'm not gonna punish you. And I'm not gonna sell you."

"You're not?"

"No," Eduardo says. "Jesus, of course not; I'm sorry for freaking you out; I was only asking about the laptop because if you still had it, I was gonna let you keep it. But I'll just buy you one instead; that's fine."

"Buy me... a laptop?" asks Mark, haltingly, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah," says Eduardo, getting to his feet. 

Mark stays knelt on the carpet, staring up at Eduardo, his eyes searching. 

And Eduardo wants to take him in his arms, kiss his ears, hold him close and tell him he's safe.

But he doesn't.

"Mark, stand up, okay?" he says gently, instead.

Mark stands.

"Come with me." Eduardo beckons. 

Mark ducks his head and follows as Eduardo leads him into the bedroom.

"You can keep your stuff from the backpack in here, okay?" says Eduardo, bending down and tapping on an empty drawer at the bottom of his dresser. "I won't open it without your permission, I promise." 

Mark stays silent, just sets the backpack down on the floor and crouches in front of the dresser.

"And when you're done you can come back out to the kitchen. We'll have some ice cream or something; how's that sound?" asks Eduardo.

Mark frowns, beginning to unzip the backpack. "Okay," he mumbles.

Eduardo smiles, and gives the doorjamb an awkwardly jovial slap, but Mark doesn't look up.

So Eduardo leaves the room, and heads to the kitchen to wait.

***

He waits for at least thirty minutes, then starts to worry that something is wrong.

So he goes back to the bedroom—

And finds Mark fast asleep, curled up on the carpet in front of the open drawer.

It makes sense, he thinks: He's pretty sure Mark didn't sleep all last night; it was only a matter of time before he crashed.

And besides. It must be exhausting, living in fear all the time.

So Eduardo slips away, and lets Mark rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you leave a comment it would mean a lot! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Mark emerges from the bedroom at 2 PM, after sleeping for three hours.

Eduardo is in the living room, sitting on the couch, reading his economics textbook.

He quickly sets it aside and smiles at Mark, who's holding the backpack in one hand and the laptop in the other.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he says, coming to a halt a few feet away from Eduardo, like he's scared to come any closer.

"Hey, no, don't worry about it," says Eduardo quickly. "Was it a good rest?"

He waits for Mark's response, but none comes.

"Did you finish putting away your stuff?" Eduardo tries.

Mark nods.

"You can put the laptop down on the table here," says Eduardo, indicating the coffee table. "And I'll take the backpack."

Mark sets down the laptop and hands him the backpack, then stands there, his eyes lowered and his tail curling around his legs.

"I already had lunch, but do you want something?" asks Eduardo.

Mark looks up. Confusion flashes across his face. "I ate this morning."

"And now it's afternoon, so it's time to eat again," Eduardo says, standing up. Jesus, has Mark never had three meals in one day or something?

"But—"

"Mark," says Eduardo, beckoning. "Come on. I'm sure you're hungry."

Which makes Mark blush, but he doesn't argue, just silently follows Eduardo to the kitchen.

"I want you to eat at the table this time," says Eduardo.

Mark stops in his tracks. "Why?"

"Because, you shouldn't have to demean yourself by eating on the floor," says Eduardo, pulling out a chair from the dining table and motioning toward it invitingly. "Please?" he wheedles, when Mark doesn't move.

Mark hesitates, then presses his lips together and takes one, two, three trepidatious steps forward. When he reaches the chair, he sits down in it awkwardly, his shoulders hunched.

"See? That's not so bad, is it?" says Eduardo.

Mark looks up at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before dropping his gaze. 

And it kind of hurts, to know that Mark still distrusts him so completely. But he knows it's not his fault, and it's not Mark's fault either. He heads to the fridge, opens it up. "So what do you want for lunch?" he asks lightly.

"Anything."

"How about reheated pizza?" Eduardo offers. "It's veggie; do you like that?"

"Okay."

"Or you can have a sandwich. I've definitely got peanut butter and I think there's jelly in here somewhere. Or you could have, like, ham and cheese or something."

"Pizza is fine," says Mark.

So Eduardo heats up two slices of pizza in the microwave and brings them to the table.

"Here," he says, taking a seat across from Mark as he sets down the plate. "Be careful, they're pretty hot."

Mark begins to eat without waiting for the pizza to cool, and glances up suspiciously at Eduardo from time to time, like he expects him to take the food away at any moment. Which— well, maybe his old owners used to do shit like that to him. Eduardo bites his lip, and decides not to think about that. "Hey, so, after this, maybe we could go shopping for clothes," he says, as Mark finishes the first slice and moves on to the second.

Mark gulps down a mouthful of pizza. "Clothes?" he echoes, frowning.

"Yeah. For you. So you don't have to keep wearing mine."

Mark stares at him for a moment, evidently confused, then continues eating his food.

"Did your old owners ever take you out in public?" it occurs to Eduardo to ask.

"One of them," says Mark, with a shrug, sounding strangely bitter.

"So have you been to a store before?"

"Yes."

Eduardo nods. "Does that sound okay, then? To go shopping?"

Mark finishes his last bite of pizza crust. "Yes," he says.

"Cool. You'll— you'll have to be on a leash," Eduardo says apologetically. "But only because it's the law."

"I know," says Mark. He stares down at his empty plate, obviously hesitant to say whatever else is on his mind.

"You alright?" asks Eduardo.

"Uh, yeah," Mark mumbles. He glances up. "But could I use your bathroom before we go?"

The question makes Eduardo's stomach swoop uncomfortably. "Mark, of course," he says. "Jesus, you don't have to ask; I told you that, didn't I?"

Mark trails a finger along the edge of the table, shrugging. "So I can go now?"

"Yeah, Mark. You can go whenever you want," says Eduardo.

Mark nods haltingly, then stands up, and, with one cautious backward glance, he leaves the table and walks into the bedroom.

Eduardo runs his hands through his hair and sighs.

***

When Mark is finished, Eduardo finds him a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to wear to the store.

"Why?" asks Mark, as he takes the clothes from Eduardo's outstretched hand.

"Because it's cold outside. You'll be cold in a t-shirt and boxers."

Mark frowns, but gets dressed, his eyes fixed on Eduardo's face the whole time.

"And you'll need shoes too," says Eduardo. "I don't know if any of mine will fit you, but—"

"I can wear those flip-flops," Mark mumbles. "The ones I wore before. They're by the door."

The ones he wore to escape in, thinks Eduardo. He nods. "Okay, yeah. And the leash is by the door too, so…"

So they head for the front door. 

Mark puts on the flip-flops and Eduardo snaps the lightweight plastic collar around his neck.

"I'm really sorry," he says, as he clips on the leash.

Mark shrugs. "It's fine," he says.

But it's not, it's fucked up, and they both know it.

***

Eduardo pushes the cart through the store, one hand wrapped around the end of Mark's leash, and Mark walks along beside him, his head bowed.

People gape openly as they pass, pointing and whispering to each other at the sight of a hybrid. Some take pictures with their flip phones. Some bring their kids nearer to see Mark up close.

"Did people stare this much when you went out with your old owner?" asks Eduardo, feeling acutely uncomfortable.

"More," Mark says.

"More?"

"Yeah. 'Cause I'd always be naked except for a pair of little lacy underwear or some shit." Mark's voice is acerbic. "He loved when people stared."

Eduardo glances over, but Mark avoids his eye, just trudges along with his arms crossed and his cheeks tinged pink. 

They reach the men's clothing department, and Eduardo chooses not to pursue the subject of Mark being paraded around in public half-naked for his owner's amusement.

Instead, he tells Mark to pick out whatever clothes he wants. Mark stares at him blankly.

"Like, what kind of t-shirts do you like?" Eduardo presses. He holds up one that says I ❤ SLOTHS. "Do you want this one?" 

Mark just shrugs.

Eduardo gives up. He makes the clothing decisions by himself, and Mark looks on carefully as the cart fills up with shirts and hoodies and pants.

When they're done there, they go to the grocery section of the store. Eduardo is staring at the canned tuna options when he hears Mark whimper behind him, and turns to find an elderly woman petting his tail. Mark is standing there stiffly, grimacing as if in pain.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am," says Eduardo, as politely as he can. "Could you please not touch him?"

"Oh," says the woman, dropping her hand. "I'm so sorry. I just love hybrids; they're such sweet creatures."

Eduardo smiles tightly, and makes to get away from her as quickly as he can.

But then: "You should really get his tail looked at," the old woman says.

Eduardo stops. "His tail?"

"The break," she says. "I could tell it hurt him when I touched it."

Eduardo glances at Mark, who's staring fixedly at the floor.

"Uh— right. Thanks," Eduardo forces out. "I will. Right away."

"Good," says the old lady. She smiles, and begins to examine a bottle of olive oil on the shelf.

Eduardo stands there for a few moments. "Come on," he mutters finally. Mark doesn't come, so Eduardo taps his shoulder, which makes Mark cower at first. But then he follows, trailing along a few paces behind, as Eduardo leaves the aisle.

As soon as they're out of the lady's earshot, Eduardo wheels around. "Mark, what the fuck? Your tail's broken?

Mark flinches, and Eduardo takes a breath, tries to calm down. "Is it broken?" he asks, in a gentler voice.

"I guess." Mark shrugs. 

"You _guess_? Mark, Jesus. Where does it hurt?"

Mark glances at him resentfully, then holds up his tail. "Here," he mumbles, indicating a segment maybe six inches long, near the middle.

"What happened to it?"

Mark lets go of his tail. "It got stepped on," he says, like he'd really rather not talk about this.

"When?"

"I don't know, a month ago? It's not a big deal."

"Have you been to a vet about it?"

Mark scoffs.

"You need to see a vet," says Eduardo, frowning in concern. "We'll get you an appointment as soon as possible, okay?"

Mark looks down.

"And you can take pain medicine when we get home." Eduardo sighs. "Fuck, Mark. You should have said something."

"It's been broken before," is Mark's response. "It healed fine on its own."

Eduardo inhales deeply and shuts his eyes. When he opens them, Mark is watching him anxiously.

"Mark, I'm not angry," says Eduardo. "I'm just worried. I don't want you to be in pain."

"I'm not in pain," says Mark.

Eduardo gives him a look, but Mark just holds his gaze defiantly.

"Fine," Eduardo allows at last. "But you're still gonna take pain meds."

Mark shrugs. Eduardo touches his arm, very gently, and Mark doesn't flinch.

And okay. Eduardo will take whatever victories he can get.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** past abuse

They continue shopping.

"I already have a toothbrush," Mark mumbles as they make their way down the tooth care aisle.

"You do?"

Mark nods. "I put it in the drawer you said I could use."

He must have acquired it while on the run, Eduardo reasons. "Do you want a new one?"

Mark squints at him, crosses his arms. "No," he says, in a way that makes Eduardo think that for Mark, this is somehow a matter of pride. So he doesn't press the matter.

"Do you have toothpaste?" he asks instead.

Mark hesitates, then shakes his head.

So toothpaste goes into the cart, as do mouthwash, deodorant, shaving cream, razors, and shampoo for curly hair.

Eduardo grabs a bottle of pain medicine too, because he's not sure what he has at home.

Then they head to the front of the store to pay.

***

The cashier stares at Mark during the entire transaction, but it's not until Eduardo is swiping his debit card that she asks, in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry, but I have to know. Is that a hybrid?"

Eduardo glances at Mark, whose eyes are trained on the floor.

"Yeah," he sighs. "He's a hybrid."

"I've never seen one before," says the cashier, sounding awed. "I hear they're good at tricks, is that true?"

"No idea," says Eduardo tersely.

Undeterred, the cashier goes on: "It's so beautiful. What's its name?"

And Jesus Christ. "_His_ name," Eduardo says, "is his own fucking business, don't you think?" 

The cashier frowns deeply, obviously offended.

And fine, maybe his tone was a bit harsher than warranted, but shit, if Eduardo has to hear someone call Mark "it" one more time, he thinks he might smash something. And she'd asked if hybrids can do tricks. As if they were, what, performing monkeys? Trained dogs? Fuck that.

He snatches up his receipt, and he and Mark leave the store, leave the cashier staring after them.

***

"How's your tail?" Eduardo asks, once they're in the car and Mark is buckling his seatbelt.

"It's fine," says Mark.

"We'll get you to a vet soon," says Eduardo, more to himself than to Mark.

"Yeah, you already said that."

Eduardo glances over, which makes Mark shrink back a little in his seat and mutter, "Sorry."

Eduardo isn't even sure what he's apologizing for. Talking back, or something? He pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving toward home. For a while neither of them speaks.

Then Mark says, very stiffly, "Thank you for the clothes. You didn't have to do that."

"Mark, it's no problem," Eduardo tells him. "You deserve clothes. Your own clothes."

Mark laughs at that, a humorless little laugh. "Yeah, tell that to my past owners," he says.

"Your past owners were assholes."

Mark shifts a little. "Yeah, they were," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eduardo looks at him, tries to catch his eye, but Mark's gaze is fixed downward.

They drive in silence for a few blocks, until Mark clears his throat. "There was this one guy, back in New York," he says. "I was with him for a year and ten months and he never gave me clothes. Not even during winter. And he kept me locked in the basement, where there wasn't any heating." He pauses, fiddling with the leash hanging down from his collar. "Fuck him."

Eduardo swallows. "Fuck him," he agrees, his voice shaking a little. He can't help but imagine it: Mark, naked and freezing, curled up in some basement in the middle of winter. Probably only let out to get fucked, his mind adds unhelpfully.

He misses his turn. "Shit."

"What?"

"Nothing," says Eduardo. "Nothing, just— Jesus, I'm sorry you had an owner like that."

Mark shrugs. "He wasn't the worst," he says, which does nothing to calm Eduardo down.

It's not until he's reached his apartment building and parked by the curb that Eduardo realizes how tightly he'd been gripping the steering wheel, how hard he'd been clenching his jaw. He takes a deep breath.

Then he gets out of the car, circles around to the passenger side, and opens up the door.

"Come on, Mark," he says softly. "Get out. Let's go inside."

And Mark, as always, obeys.

***

Eduardo makes Kraft mac and cheese for their dinner.

"I'm really not a great cook," he says, as he serves up two bowls and joins Mark at the table. "I think it's too watery."

Mark just shrugs and starts to eat. 

Eduardo watches him for a moment. He's dressed in the new sloth t-shirt and a blue hoodie, and it's nice to see him in regular clothes. Like he's just a regular guy.

Except he isn't, is he? He's a hybrid, and he's been treated like shit, abused and neglected, bought and sold, since— maybe his whole life. Eduardo frowns.

"Mark, where did you grow up?" he asks carefully.

"New York."

"I mean, like, _where_?"

"Long Island," says Mark, but Eduardo is pretty sure he knows what Eduardo is actually asking.

"Do you not want to talk about it?" Eduardo offers.

Mark stares at him for a long moment, then lowers his eyes. "It was called 'Happy Tails'," he says.

"Was it— I forget what the acronym is, but I read about it online. Like one of those places where they raise child hybrids?"

"An HYC," says Mark flatly.

"Yeah, it's like— an orphanage, kind of, right?"

Mark scoffs. "Yeah, an orphanage where all the kids wear collars and sleep in dog beds and eat out of cans." He takes a bite of macaroni.

"Fuck." Eduardo stares. "Mark, that sounds like child abuse."

"But we were fed and clothed and allowed to play outside," Mark intones. "And they taught us to read and write. And we were hybrids. So it was fine." He says it so calmly that Eduardo would almost believe he meant it. But when Mark glances across the table, his eyes are like flint.

"How long were you there?" asks Eduardo, very quietly.

Mark goes back to eating. "Till I was fifteen."

"And then... you were sold?"

"Yes," Mark says shortly.

Eduardo nods, and lets the subject drop.

It's not that he's not curious— because he is, about Mark's past, his owners, everything. It's just that he doesn't want to ask. Doesn't want to pry.

***

(And maybe, he thinks, someday, Mark will choose to tell him on his own.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! a comment, literally any comment, will make my day!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** brief mention of vomit, mentions of past abuse / being kept in a cage / food deprivation
> 
> "HYC" stands for "Hybrid Youth Center" btw

They finish dinner in silence, and Eduardo brings their dishes to the sink.

"I can wash them," says Mark immediately, standing up.

But Eduardo shakes his head. "I'll do them later," he says, wiping his hands on a dish rag. He glances at Mark, whose brow is furrowed. "You're used to doing housework, huh?" he asks softly. "For your past owners?"

Mark just shrugs.

"Okay, well. You don't have to, with me," says Eduardo, for what feels like the hundredth time. He opens up the cupboard contemplatively. "I'm gonna throw away all this hybrid food, alright?"

"Alright," says Mark, but as Eduardo chucks the cans into the garbage, Mark inhales sharply and his tail curls around his legs. Eduardo wonders if it hurts the broken part to move like that.

"Mark," he says gently.

Mark lifts his face.

"You'd rather eat human food, right?"

Mark says nothing. His expression is hard to read.

"Mark, this hybrid stuff is crap, we established that, didn't we?" tries Eduardo.

Slowly, Mark nods.

"Okay, then there's no need to keep it," Eduardo asserts. "Come here," he adds. "Let's go to the living room."

He heads over to the couch, flops down against the cushions. Mark follows, but pauses a few paces away. Eduardo pats the space beside him, and Mark takes a step closer, then stops again.

"Mark, you're allowed to sit on my couch," sighs Eduardo, and maybe it comes out sounding a touch more exasperated than he'd intended it to, because Mark flinches. 

But then, very gingerly, he sits down.

"Were you never allowed to use furniture, before?" Eduardo asks, before he can help himself.

"When I was a kid," Mark mumbles. "The HYC I grew up in had chairs."

"But I mean with your owners."

Mark gives Eduardo a look.

"Not even when you ate?" Eduardo asks quietly.

Mark shakes his head.

"What about in your free time? Did you just sit on the ground?"

At that, Mark scoffs. "What free time?" he asks.

"You know, like... if you finished, I don't know, the housework or whatever." Eduardo frowns. "Didn't you have free time?"

"You mean the time I spent locked up?" asks Mark acerbically.

Jesus fucking Christ. "But you weren't— you weren't _always_ locked up, were you?" asks Eduardo, half-dreading the answer.

"Not if I had chores or someone wanted to fuck me," says Mark. He arches an eyebrow. "What, did you imagine they let me sit around knitting or something?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking knitting, but maybe... reading?" Eduardo says, a bit desperately. "Do you like to read?"

"I do like to read."

"So they gave you books."

"The HYC did. And the pet shop did," says Mark. "My owners didn't." 

"Then what did they give you?" asks Eduardo.

Mark looks away. "One of them, uh. He let me have a Rubik's cube. I'd sit in my cage and solve it for hours while he was at work. But other than that..." He shrugs.

"Mark, Jesus Christ. They kept you locked up with nothing to do?"

"The rest of them, yeah."

"Didn't you get bored?" breathes Eduardo.

"Of course I got bored."

Eduardo inhales shakily. "Mark, that's terrible," he says. "That's fucking inhumane."

"Well, I'm not a human," says Mark, his voice flat.

Eduardo reaches out, tucks a curl behind Mark's human ear. "You are in every way that matters," he says.

Mark doesn't respond, doesn't even move, just sits there frozen as Eduardo ghosts a finger over his earlobe, down his jawline. 

"I'll buy you books," he tells Mark. "Lots of them. As many as you want."

"It's fine," says Mark, shaking his head. "I already have a book. When I ran away, uh. I found it."

Stole it, probably. "But you need more than one book, right?" says Eduardo. "And I haven't forgotten about the laptop; we'll go buy you one soon, I promise. And anything else you want," he adds in a rush.

Mark just eyes him uneasily.

Eduardo sighs. "Fine, we'll talk about that stuff tomorrow," he concedes. "But for now— look, why don't you go get your book? And you can read it while I do my Econ homework. How's that sound?

Mark hesitates, then nods. "Okay."

***

They spend the evening seated side-by-side on the couch, Mark reading a rain-damaged copy of _The Aeneid_ while Eduardo completes his problem set. 

Then, around midnight, they start getting ready for bed. Eduardo averts his eyes when Mark changes his clothes, and privately cheers when Mark uses the toilet without asking permission. 

And when Eduardo finishes brushing his teeth, he emerges from the bathroom to find Mark curled up in the hybrid bed, fast asleep.

***

Eduardo wakes up thirsty. It's 4:03 AM, according to his alarm clock, and he feels around on his nightstand for his glass of water. It's empty.

He sighs and gets out of bed, then heads to the kitchen.

There, he refills his cup, turns off the faucet— and freezes.

He hears rustling. Breathing.

"Mark?" he whispers.

There's a moment of silence. Then: "Yes?" comes Mark's voice, very quiet and very scared.

Eduardo flips the kitchen lights on, and there's Mark, seated on the floor against the wall, a spoon in one hand and an open can in the other.

"What are you doing?" asks Eduardo.

"Eating," says Mark, defensively, but his eyes are wide and his cat ears are flat against his head.

"In the dark?"

"I'm part cat; I can see in the dark."

"Okay, that's— I didn't know that," says Eduardo. "But that's not the point; why are you eating hybrid food in secret in the middle of the night?"

Mark shrugs. "Do you want me to go vomit it up?" he asks tonelessly.

"_What_? No. Jesus. I'm just confused. I..." Eduardo sits down at the table, still gripping his cup of water, and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's not sure where to start. "Did you dig that can out of the trash?" he lands on eventually.

"Yes," says Mark, lowering his eyes.

"What happened to it being disgusting? That's why I threw it away, because you said you'd rather eat human food."

Mark doesn’t answer. He sets the can down on the floor and draws his knees up to his chest. He looks very small.

"Were you hungry?" prompts Eduardo. "Is that what happened? You got hungry but you were afraid to eat out of the fridge?"

"I wasn't hungry," Mark says.

Eduardo stares at him. "Then I'm really lost," he admits at last.

Mark hugs his legs closer and shrugs. "I woke up," he says. "And I couldn't go back to sleep. I kept thinking about the hybrid food. So—" He shrugs. "I got up and took the cans out of the trash and put them under your couch." He shoots Eduardo a brief, frightened glance. "And then I thought I might as well eat some right now, in case tomorrow..." He shrugs again.

"What, in case I don't feed you tomorrow?"

Mark doesn't respond.

Eduardo shuts his eyes. "Mark, Jesus," he says weakly, "do you think I'm gonna start starving you or something?"

"How should I know what you are or aren't gonna start doing?" mutters Mark.

Eduardo kind of wants to cry. "I'm not like them," he whispers. "I care about you, Mark. I'm not gonna hurt you, or starve you, or keep you in a cage, or do any of the shit your old owners used to do."

Mark says nothing. They sit there in silence for maybe a minute.

Then Eduardo speaks again. "I'm gonna go back to bed now, okay?" he tells Mark. "You can keep eating or not, it's up to you. I'm not going to stop you. But just... you're not gonna go hungry with me, Mark. Ever. I swear."

Mark stares at him for a moment. Then, haltingly, he nods.

So Eduardo stands up, offers Mark a small smile, and leaves the kitchen.

He's just getting settled under the covers when he hears a thud— something like the sound of a half-full can of hybrid food being thrown in the trash. The light in the kitchen turns off.

And Eduardo listens as Mark pads into the bedroom and gets into the hybrid bed.

"Goodnight, Mark," Eduardo says.

"Goodnight, sir," Mark replies stiffly.

Eduardo rolls over. "You don't have to call me 'sir,'" he says. "Just Eduardo."

"Eduardo," echoes Mark.

"Right." 

"Eduardo," Mark says again, more softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Eduardo says. "But you really don't need to thank me."

He waits for a moment, to see if Mark will respond, but he doesn't— his breathing is deep and even, and Eduardo realizes that he's already asleep.

Eduardo smiles in the darkness. And soon, sleep finds him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! sorry i took a while to update. please let me know your thoughts in a comment! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** visit to a vet, so mentions of doctors and medical stuff, also mark being treated like a little kid

The next morning, they go to the vet for Mark's tail.

Eduardo has Mark fill out the intake paperwork, which garners them a suspicious look from the vet tech at the front desk, but in the end she peruses the completed forms and deems them satisfactory.

Before long Mark and Eduardo are called back to the exam room, where they meet the veterinarian.

"Good morning!" he singsongs cheerfully. "My name is Dr. Roth." He shakes Eduardo's hand, then turns to Mark and says, in an exaggeratedly childish voice, "Hello there, Mark. It's okay, don't be scared. Can you be a good boy and come sit up here on this table for me?"

Mark glances at Eduardo, as if asking for permission, then stands and hoists himself up onto the padded exam table. He sits there with his legs dangling off the edge, his tail curled around his knees.

"Good job!" says the doctor, as if Mark were two years old. "What an obedient boy. Now, your owner says you have an ouchie on your tail?"

Eduardo finds it weird as fuck, the way the doctor is talking, but Mark just nods dully, apparently unbothered. Or maybe just used to it? Shit.

"Alright, can you show me where the ouchie is, Mark?" asks the doctor.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo cuts in sharply, "but can you not talk to him like that? He's an adult."

Dr. Roth whips his head around to stare at Eduardo. He looks flustered. "Excuse me?"

"That voice you're using. Like he's a baby or something. Can you not do that?"

"The hybrids find it comforting," says Dr. Roth. He scratches one of Mark's cat ears. "Don't you, Marky?" he coos.

Mark keeps his eyes downcast and doesn't respond, but his ears twitch uncomfortably, and Eduardo can tell he's annoyed.

"Now, Mark, point to your tail where it hurts, please," says Dr. Roth, in the same voice as before.

Mark rolls his eyes and points. Then Dr. Roth takes Mark's tail into his own hands without asking permission and begins to feel the portion that Mark indicated. "Ah yes. Definitely broken," he says. And then, to Mark: "Poor little thing, this must hurt you a lot, huh?"

Mark doesn't reply.

"What a brave boy you are. What a good little trooper," says the doctor, reaching out to pet Mark's ear again.

"Stop," says Eduardo, standing up. 

Dr. Roth turns.

"If you won't treat him with respect then we're leaving," Eduardo announces. "Come on, Mark."

Mark glances between Eduardo and the doctor, then gets off the table and slinks over to Eduardo. 

"Excuse me," says Dr. Roth. "I'm not finished with his exam. Mark, get back here."

But Eduardo opens the exam room door and herds Mark out into the lobby.

The doctor follows after them.

"Is everything alright?" asks the vet tech behind the counter, looking up.

"Does this doctor always refuse to treat his hybrid patients like the intelligent people they are?" asks Eduardo.

"I'm sorry?" says the vet tech.

"Charge him the full $70 for a visit," Dr. Roth tells her, breathing hard. He shoots a glare at Eduardo, then wheels around, strides back into the exam room, and slams the door behind him.

Eduardo pays the $70 while Mark fidgets by his side. 

"I apologize if we caused a scene," Eduardo says politely as the vet tech hands him his receipt. Then he clips the leash onto Mark's collar, and they leave the vet clinic and return to Eduardo's car.

"I'm sorry," says Mark stiffly, staring into his lap as they drive away. "They shouldn't have made you pay."

Eduardo frowns. "Mark, it wasn't your fault," he says. "Jesus. I couldn't believe how he was talking to you. Like you were a fucking baby or something. Or an actual animal. It was fucking creepy."

"That's how all vets are," shrugs Mark.

"Jesus Christ," says Eduardo. "Are you serious? Doesn't it bother you?"

Mark shrugs again, which Eduardo takes to mean yes.

"Fuck. I'd bring you to my own doctor but I doubt he has experience with broken tails," muses Eduardo.

"Human doctors don't treat hybrids," says Mark.

"They don't?"

"Why would they?" asks Mark.

"I don't know, maybe because you basically are a human? Just with a tail and cat ears," says Eduardo. "Jesus."

Mark sighs, still gazing into his lap.

"It's okay," Eduardo assures him. "We'll find you a better vet, okay?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark lift his face. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Oh."

"What, did you think we wouldn't get your tail treated just because the first vet we saw was an idiot?" asks Eduardo, frowning.

Mark shrugs (so yes, he did think that), and Eduardo doesn't press the matter. They drive the rest of the way home in silence.

***

Eduardo spends the remainder of the morning calling various veterinary clinics, confusing them with his request for doctors who don't use baby talk with hybrid patients.

He's on the phone with the sixth clinic when he's told of a certain Dr. Phillips, who "sometimes gets complaints for being too formal with the animals."

"Great, I'd like to make an appointment with him please," says Eduardo immediately.

He's able to schedule one for 2 PM that same day, and he hangs up the phone feeling hopeful.

***

Three hours later, they're at the vet again, in an exam room with Dr. Phillips, who introduces himself as "Sy."

He greets Mark first, then Eduardo, then turns back to Mark.

"So. Broken tail, huh?" he says, in a perfectly normal voice. No baby talk. No cooing. No calling Mark a good little boy. 

Thank God.

Mark nods.

"Alright then. Up here," says Dr. Phillips. Or Sy, or whatever. He gives the cushioned exam table a pat, and Mark climbs up onto it.

"May I touch your tail?" asks Sy.

Mark nods again.

So Sy lifts Mark's tail and runs practiced fingers along its length, until he reaches the middle of it and pauses.

"When did it happen?" he asks Mark.

"A month ago."

Sy glances at Eduardo, frowning.

"It wasn't him," says Mark, staring down at his hands. "It was my old owner. He, um. Stepped on it." He shrugs. "Eduardo didn't find out till yesterday."

"I see," says Sy, quietly. "I'm sorry that happened."

Mark shrugs again.

"We'll get you x-rayed, alright?" Sy says. "And then I'll put a splint on your tail. It should be good as new within six months if it's a clean break, which it seems to be."

Mark nods, and the rest of the appointment plays out just as Sy outlined: Mark's tail gets x-rayed, splinted, and bandaged. Mark endures it all silently.

"It will heal more quickly now that you won't be able to move the broken portion," Sy tells Mark when he's finished. "I'll prescribe you pain medicine for a month, after which regular ibuprofen should do the trick. If it doesn't feel any better after a month, you speak up. Alright?"

Mark nods.

"Okay then," says Sy. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Mark. It was very good meeting you. And you, Eduardo."

He nods at them both, and sends them on their way.

***

They fill the prescription right there in the office, and the lady behind the counter offers Mark a twizzler, which Mark takes.

Eduardo pays for the appointment and the pills and tells the lady to have a nice day as he and Mark leave the office.

But he's still thinking about Mark's twizzler. "You know, I haven't been given candy at the doctor's since I was like ten," he says, as they walk back to his car, Mark trailing a little behind Eduardo, his collar attached the the leash. "Don't these people understand that you're not a little kid?"

But Mark just shrugs, and says, "I like twizzlers. I haven't had one in years."

So Eduardo lets the topic drop, and makes a mental note to buy twizzlers as soon as he humanly can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't updated for so long! thanks to everyone who's stuck around! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! more to come soon, i hope. and comments are always really motivating!!! :)
> 
> p.s. next chapter will be angsty lol


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of past rape, issues of consent

That afternoon, Eduardo buys Mark a shitload of twizzlers at the grocery store.

That evening, they order pizza and eat it together on Eduardo's couch.

And that night, Eduardo dreams that someone is kissing him— deeply, passionately, their legs straddling his lap and their hands holding his face.

Eduardo kisses back. He feels his dick hardening. He opens his eyes.

And fuck, it's not a dream.

Someone's actually kissing him.

Eduardo yelps and shoves them off. Still groggy, he turns on the lamp on his nightstand. And there beside him on the bed, completely naked, his eyes smoldering, is Mark.

"Jesus," breathes Eduardo. "Mark, what are you doing? Where are your clothes?"

"I took them off."

"Yeah, I can see; why'd you do that?" Eduardo asks him breathlessly. "And you kissed me; why would you—"

"I want you to fuck me," says Mark, very evenly, though he's not quite meeting Eduardo's eye.

"You— _what_?" Eduardo sits up in bed. "Mark, Jesus, what are you talking about?"

"You said you don't have sex with people who don't want it," Mark shrugs. "But now I want it." He reaches under the covers to touch Eduardo's dick, which is, unfortunately, still hard. "And you want it too, see?"

"Mark," says Eduardo, gently removing Mark's hand. But Mark puts it right back and begins to palm Eduardo's cock through his boxers. 

Eduardo shudders involuntarily, closes his eyes. It feels fucking amazing, but—

"If you don't want to fuck me, would you prefer it if I blew you?" Mark asks, his voice low. "Or jerked you off? Or I could rim you? Or— do you have any kinks? I can do anything. Anything you want." He leans in for another kiss.

And finally Eduardo comes to his senses, places a hand on Mark's bare shoulder, and pushes him away. 

Mark scowls, obviously confused.

"Mark. It's not your job to have sex with me," says Eduardo.

Mark pulls his knees up toward his chest, frowning. "But I want to," he says shortly.

Eduardo swallows. "Did you— With your old owners, how many times did you have sex because you wanted it?"

Mark's frown deepens.

"Did you _ever_ want it?" Eduardo asks softly.

Mark lowers his eyes. "Not with them," he admits.

"So why do you want it with me?"

"Because—" Mark shrugs. "You took me to the vet to get my tail fixed. And you always feed me, like, way more than I need. And you bought me clothes. And twizzlers."

"So you want... to pay me back," Eduardo says slowly.

Mark nods.

"And you want to do that by letting me fuck you."

"Exactly," says Mark, like he's relieved that Eduardo finally understands.

"Mark, listen to me," Eduardo sighs. He kind of wants to cry. "Wanting to pay someone back with sex is different than actually wanting to have sex."

Mark squints at him. "No it's not."

"Yes, it is. Because if you do something just because you think you owe it to someone, that's not— you're not really a willing participant. Or something. I don't know how to explain it."

Mark says nothing, just sits there naked and hugging his knees, his brow furrowed.

"Look, are your owners the only people you've ever had sex with?" Eduardo asks quietly.

"Yes, so?"

"So— I mean, it's not your fault, but Mark, but I don't think you really understand consent."

"You got hard just from me kissing you," Mark points out. "That means you want it."

"First of all, it's not that simple. Second of all, if it _were_ that simple—did_ you _get hard?"

Mark spreads his legs a little, frowns down at his flaccid dick. "Okay, but that doesn't matter," he says. "I never get hard during sex."

And Eduardo feels tears welling up in his eyes, actual fucking tears. "Because you've only ever been raped, Mark," he whispers.

Mark says nothing for a moment. Then, sounding almost desperate: "But this time it wouldn't be like that," he says. "Please. Eduardo. I owe you. I want to repay you."

"You don't owe me anything," says Eduardo. He reaches out and gently touches Mark's cheek. Mark doesn't flinch, just frowns. "Listen, okay? I like seeing you in clothes," Eduardo goes on. "I like knowing you're not in pain, knowing you're not hungry. That's more than enough repayment for me."

"But I'm really good," says Mark weakly. "All my owners have said so."

"I'm sure you are," sighs Eduardo. "And I'm sure that someday you're going to be an amazing lover, and you're going to have tons of super hot consensual sex."

"With you?" asks Mark, still frowning.

_Yes, Jesus, please_, thinks Eduardo selfishly. And for a moment, he allows himself to imagine it— Mark's mouth around Eduardo's cock. Eduardo's cock in Mark's beautiful ass. Mark whimpering with pleasure. Mark nestled in Eduardo's arms as they bask together in the afterglow. 

He feels himself blush, feels his dick getting hard again. "With whoever you want," he says. "But not until you're ready."

Mark meets Eduardo's eye and, very slowly, he nods, like maybe he understands.

"Now put your pajamas back on, okay?" suggests Eduardo. "It's cold."

Mark gets off the bed and obeys, pulling on his t-shirt and boxers. He stands there awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "For kissing you. I thought—"

"I know. It's okay."

Mark nods again, then turns away and curls up in the hybrid bed, his body forming a tiny ball, like he's used to having to sleep in much smaller spaces.

Cages, thinks Eduardo. And beds made for animals. 

He wonders if Mark's ever slept in an actual human bed before. He probably hasn't. Fuck, he doesn't have an actual bed here with Eduardo, just a glorified dog bed on the fucking floor.

"Mark," says Eduardo.

Mark twists his head around.

"How would you like to sleep in my bed with me?"

Mark looks concerned. "But you said—"

"Just to sleep," Eduardo hastens to clarify. "Nothing sexual. It's just— Jesus. I don't know why I've been making you use that hybrid bed; for some reason I didn't even second-guess it. But you deserve to sleep in a real bed."

Mark shrugs, then stands up, letting his blanket fall from his body. "If you want me to," he says. He takes a step toward the bed.

"No, Mark, stop."

Mark stops.

"I asked if _you_ wanted to." Eduardo waits to see if Mark will respond, but all Mark does is swish his bandaged tail a little and stare at the floor. "You don't have to," Eduardo says, realizing that maybe it's too soon to expect Mark to feel safe sharing a bed. "You can sleep in your hybrid bed; that's fine. I just— I wanted you to know that my bed is, you know. Available. If you were interested. And that I haven't been trying to demean you or something, by making you sleep on the floor; it just never occurred to me that..." He trails off. 

Mark still says nothing.

"I— I'm gonna turn off the light," Eduardo tells him. "You sleep wherever you want, okay?"

Mark stares at him for a moment, then nods. And Eduardo smiles— briefly, reassuringly— before flipping the switch on his bedside lamp, throwing the room into darkness.

He waits until he hears the rustling of blankets as Mark gets situated in the hybrid bed— which is perfectly alright, Eduardo tells himself, as long as Mark feels comfortable there.

Then he turns on his side and lies there for a long time, trying not to imagine teenage Mark being caged and beaten and raped until he's lost all conception of what it would mean to actually desire sexual contact. 

He forces himself to think of other things instead, nicer things:

How Mark's face had lit up today when Eduardo had put five bags of twizzlers in the shopping cart.

How Mark hadn't seemed surprised tonight when Eduardo had let him eat as much pizza as he wanted.

How Mark's lips had felt, pressed against his own; how maybe someday Mark will kiss him like that again and actually mean it.

And eventually, with those thoughts swirling in his mind, Eduardo falls asleep.

***

When he wakes up the next morning, he finds Mark curled up on the bottom left corner of the bed, on top of the duvet, beside Eduardo's feet.

Which is... Well. It's a start. And Eduardo feels like his heart is about to burst. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! a comment would mean the world to me ;_;


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very very short chapter lol, but more to come soon!

It's 6 AM. Eduardo has class in two hours, so he should probably get up now to avoid having to rush to get ready, but he doesn't want to move— doesn't want to disturb Mark, who looks so peaceful, curled up on the corner of the bed.

Eduardo shifts slightly under the covers, about to lie back down, but apparently Mark hears him— cat ears, Eduardo reminds himself. He unfurls his body a little, lifts his head, blinks sleepily. Then, suddenly, his ears flatten, and his eyes get wide. He looks scared, like he wants to run.

"Hey, it's okay," Eduardo says quickly. "You can stay there. Don't worry."

"Sorry," says Mark.

"For what?"

Mark doesn't answer. Maybe he doesn't even know.

Eduardo sighs. "Are you cold?" he asks, as gently as he can. "Do you want to get under the blankets with me?"

Mark's cat ears go flat again, and Eduardo backpedals immediately. "I mean, you don't have to, it's fine; no pressure," he says. "I— I should get up now anyway, get a start on the day."

Mark seems to relax a bit at that, but he doesn't respond, just lowers his eyes and picks at the bandage on his tail.

"Does your tail hurt?"

"No."

"Okay," says Eduardo. "Well, you're due for more pain medicine in an hour, so even if it does hurt, it should feel better once you take the meds."

Mark says nothing.

Eduardo stands up, stretches. "So. Do you want to shower?" he asks.

Mark looks up, frowning. "Together?"

Fuck. "Mark, no. Alone, like the last shower you took here. Jesus." He scowls. "Your owners didn't even let you take a fucking _shower_ in peace?"

Mark shrugs. "They liked to fuck me in there," he says matter-of-factly.

"Okay, well, I'm not gonna fuck you there. I'm not gonna fuck you anywhere. Fuck, that sounds like a Dr. Seuss rhyme; I—" Eduardo closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to say to you, Mark. To make you understand."

"I'm sorry," says Mark.

"No no, don't be sorry. Shit. I just—" Eduardo opens his eyes. "Go ahead and shower, okay?" he says weakly. "I'll be in the kitchen making breakfast."

Mark nods slowly, and removes his t-shirt. Eduardo stares at his pale, bony chest, and before he can look away, Mark has stood up and pulled off his boxers too. His dick is hard, Eduardo can't help but notice.

He averts his gaze. "I'll see you, Mark," he says, blushing, and he heads toward the door.

But then Mark says, "Eduardo?"

"Yeah?" replies Eduardo, without turning around.

A few moments pass in silence. Eduardo waits. And finally, his voice barely above a whisper, Mark asks, "Can I... touch myself? Maybe after my shower?"

"Mark, Jesus, of course," says Eduardo. "Of course you can. During your shower, after your shower, whenever you want. You don't have to ask my permission."

"_During_ my shower?" Mark repeats, sounding incredulous.

"Yeah, why—" Eduardo frowns at the door. "Why not?"

There's a brief pause. And then: "Don't you want to watch?"

Eduardo shuts his eyes. Jesus Christ. "No, Mark," he manages. "No, I would never make you let me watch."

"Oh," is all Mark says.

And, unable to stop himself, Eduardo glances back at him, finds him standing there stark naked, his tail around his thighs, his expression heartbreakingly confused.

They stare at each other for a moment. Eduardo wants, so badly, to pull Mark close and kiss away his confusion.

Instead, he lowers his eyes. "You have a good shower, okay?" he says.

And he leaves the bedroom before Mark can respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :) comments make my day and really encourage me!!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning:** description of past abuse

Eduardo makes blueberry pancakes for breakfast. He's just finishing up when Mark emerges from the bedroom with damp hair, dressed in some of his new clothes— jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt.

"Hey," says Eduardo, smiling at him. 

"Hi."

Eduardo sets the table with plates and silverware, butter and syrup. Mark continues to stand there.

"Sit down," Eduardo tells him brightly.

Mark sits. Eduardo wishes it didn't feel so much like strict obedience.

He brings over the pancakes and takes his own seat at the table. "Help yourself," he says, gesturing toward the food.

Somewhat trepidatiously, Mark transfers a pancake to his plate without taking his eyes off Eduardo.

Eduardo, in turn, grabs two pancakes for himself. He butters them, cuts them into slices, and takes a bite.

Mark just continues to watch him.

"Mark," says Eduardo, swallowing hastily. "Go ahead, you can eat. You don't have to wait for permission."

Mark glances away. Then he picks up his pancake with his hands and begins to nibble at it. 

It occurs to Eduardo that he's never seen Mark use a knife and fork. That maybe he doesn't know how.

So he asks.

Mark's ears go back a little. "I was never allowed," he mutters, setting down his pancake.

"Well, now you're allowed," says Eduardo firmly. "Here. I'll show you. You take your fork in your left hand— good, yeah— And your knife in your right hand, and—"

But Mark is already cutting up his pancake— quite expertly, in fact.

"There!" says Eduardo. "Look, you didn't even need any instructions."

"I mean, I've seen other people do it," Mark shrugs. "I've just never..." He shrugs again and takes a bite.

_Learns quick_, Eduardo remembers the Craigslist ad saying. It makes him angry, to think that the only things Mark's old owners let him learn were sex and chores and compliance. He stabs a piece of pancake with his fork and decides to change the subject. "So, um. I have class today," he says. "It's an hour and a half, but you'll be okay by yourself, right?"

Mark nods quickly. "I'll be good. I won't touch anything. And I won't run away again, I swear."

"Mark, no, I didn't mean—" Eduardo sighs. "You can touch whatever you want. Go on my laptop, read my books, watch TV, anything."

Mark frowns. "Oh."

"And then I'll be back around 10," Eduardo goes on. "And after that I thought that maybe we could go shopping."

"To buy what?" asks Mark, frowning.

"Well. A laptop for you, for one thing," says Eduardo. "And also some books, if you want."

"For me?"

"Yeah, of course."

Mark drops his gaze. "I don't need a laptop," he mumbles, shoving his last piece of pancake into his mouth. 

"But don't you want one? You took mine with you when you ran away, so I figured..."

Mark shoots him a frightened little glance, then looks away. "I was just gonna sell it," he says. "Not— not use it. I don't even know how."

"Wait, you haven't used a computer before?" asks Eduardo, surprised, though even as the words leave his mouth he realizes that it was naïve of him to assume otherwise.

Mark is quiet for a while. Then he says, very stiffly, "I did once." He sets down his fork. "I wasn't allowed to, obviously. But one day my owner was at work, and I was out of my cage because I was supposed to be cleaning the house. And while I was dusting off the computer desk, I thought it couldn't hurt if I just..." He trails off and shrugs. "It was stupid of me."

Something about his tone makes Eduardo shiver. "Did your owner catch you or something?" he asks hesitantly.

Mark just lowers his eyes, which is answer enough for Eduardo. He doesn't ask what the punishment was. He isn't sure he wants to know. 

But Mark tells him anyway: "He beat me and locked me in a coat closet for two days," he says flatly. "And when he let me out, he beat me some more, because I'd pissed on the carpet while I was in there. As if I'd done it on purpose."

"Fuck," breathes Eduardo. "Mark, I am so fucking sorry. Jesus Christ."

Mark doesn't reply. Eduardo inhales deeply, reaches across the corner of the table, and touches Mark's hand. "If you don't want a computer, if it'll make you think of— of that, then we don't have to get you one," he says.

Mark looks up at him, a flicker of something like disappointment in his eyes.

"But if you _do_ want one," Eduardo adds hurriedly, "I can teach you how to use it. And I'm pretty sure you'll like it. Computers are... they're pretty cool."

Mark nods slowly.

"But no pressure," says Eduardo. "Do you want to, like, think about it first?"

Mark nods again, and Eduardo gives him a reassuring smile. Then he collects their empty plates and brings them to the sink.

"Hey, Eduardo?" says Mark quietly, as Eduardo sits back down at the table.

"What's up?"

Mark shrugs. "I wondered if you still have the roll of bandages from the vet," he mumbles. "Because I took the splint off my tail before I showered, so now I'd like to put it back on and bandage it. If that's alright."

"Oh! Shit, yeah, of course," says Eduardo. "They're in the cupboard under the sink; let me go get them. And then I can wrap your tail for you, okay?"

Mark looks up at that, a strange expression on his face.

"You okay?" Eduardo asks gently.

Mark hesitates, then lowers his eyes again. "I can wrap it myself, actually," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eduardo's chest tightens guiltily. "Shit," he mutters. Because Mark's spent his whole life being treated like either an object or a child, and now what if he thinks that's how Eduardo sees him too? Like a kid who can't use a knife and fork, can't bandage his own fucking tail? "Of course you can," Eduardo tells him. "Jesus, I didn't mean to suggest that you couldn't; I just..." He trails off.

Mark says nothing.

"Come on," Eduardo offers after a moment, standing up. "I'll show you where the bandages are."

Mark nods, and stands up too. And together, they head off to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! more to come soon! please leave a comment if you're enjoying this :)


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